Pressing Matters
by scully-hearts-roslin
Summary: Be careful about your priorities, Bill, presidents don't appreciate playing second fiddle.


**Disclaimer: **The BSG characters are still not mine, but they are dear to my heart & I'm only trying to have fun with them. ;o) **Summary:** Be careful about your priorities, Bill, presidents don't appreciate playing second fiddle.

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**Pressing Matters**

Colonel Tigh was waiting for the Admiral's orders at CIC. He grunted. Those training maneuvers bored the guts out of him. He knew that they were pivotal, of course, but he usually preferred a nice drink in the privacy of his cabin. He used to enjoy toasting some Ambrosia to the Admiral, chatting about the latest frak-ups. But things had changed after the occupation on New Caprica. They seemed to have changed even more lately.

Saul couldn't quite point his finger to it, but he was sure that something was going on behind his back. And he wasn't particularly sure whether he wished to know, or not.

The flight maneuvers had moved into the third frakked-up hour when Dee informed the Admiral about an incoming call from Colonial One. Tigh rolled his eye, knowing that there were two possible scenarios. One, William Adama would pick up the phone, nod, cover a smile and give him the bridge. Two, he would take the call, he would listen, he would discuss, he would argue, and then his XO would have to take the bridge.

When Bill Adama took the call, he was all Admiral. He stood in the middle of the bridge, waiting for her voice to communicate her agenda to him. "It's confidential, Sir." Dee told him through the speaker, before he was put through to her.

"Madame President?" He said calmly.

"Bill?" Laura Roslin gave back in a hoarse tone.

"We are in the middle of training units," Adama replied with a low voice. "Is there a pressing matter?"

"A pressing matter?" The President chuckled. "You stood me up, Bill."

"I..."

"You should know better than that."

"I wasn't able to make it to the meeting, Madame President. I was a little wrapped up," Bill tried to manage to apologize to her without anybody noticing it. He failed.

"Well, wrapped up you are. Now. Here, with me. On the com," Laura said sternly. "I won't let you get away with this, Bill. Keeping your President waiting isn't very nice. Keeping your lover waiting isn't wise. Keeping me waiting isn't legal."

"It isn't..." Bill stuttered, fearing where this might be headed, her strict teacher's voice ringing in his ears.

"Legal, you heard me, Bill," she lowered her voice. "You had me bored for the past three hours. What do you think Presidents do when they are frakking bored? They outline laws." She giggled. She was stoned.

"Madame President, I think..." Bill tried to interrupt her without stirring too much attention.

"Or they start wars. But, no! We don't start wars these days, do we?" Her giggles grew stronger. "Although, I'd like to play a little war game right now."

"Madame President, we can't..."

"I am declaring war on you, Bill Adama." She tried to suppress her chuckles. "And I will punish you through torture."

"Torture?" Admiral Adama closed his eyes at his own slippery tongue. "Yes, ma'am, I think we should discuss our interrogation techniques." He rubbed his forehead.

"We should, Bill. We should. But you know what else we should do?" Her voice was raw and low when she continued to speak to him. "We should make you understand what you missed tonight."

Bill choked.

"Do you know what I'm wearing, Bill?" She said in her flirty voice.

"I..., I have no idea." Admiral Adama tried to cover his uneasiness.

"I'm wearing this red lacy nothingness that you like so much. It barely covers my hips." She giggled huskily. "And then there's nothing else, Bill."

His face, going from pale to blush within a millisecond, didn't go unnoticed by Saul who wondered what the frak was going on.

"There is nothing else here, Bill, but the reddish cloth of see-through lace, some wine, and some Chamalla."

"Who would've guessed," Adama managed to utter under his breath. That red little nightgown. It was made out of so little, having such a lasting effect on him.

"You like me in that gown. I know that Bill," She teased him lusciously. "You like it when I wear red things." She giggled again. "And you like to unwrap me from red clothes." She was switching to her seductive mode again. "But you're not here now, Bill, are you? Well, I guess, I'll have to undress without you."

Bill wished to hiss at her. _Not now. Not here._ But that might motivate her all the more. "I think we should discuss this face to face, Madame President," was as much as he could possibly say without losing his voice.

Laura answered him with a deep laugh. "Huh!" And her voice was a low as a whisper. "I'm moving the straps down my shoulder now, Bill. And I feel the air on my skin where you should touch me."

"Stop it," he hissed quietly.

"You wish!" Laura chuckled develishly. "I'm just getting started, Admiral."

Saul's expression was concerned when he saw the distressed look on Admiral Adama's face. He shot him his _is everything ok, pal?_ gaze, backing off when Adama waved him away.

"I'm sorry, Madame President. I really am," he said through clenched teeth.

"Sorry?" Laura chuckled again. "So am I."

"I will try to press matters here a little bit, maybe that'll help." Bill tried to wipe the image of her, lying naked between her sheets, from his mind. It was useless, of course.

"It would help if it were your hands on my skin instead of mine," she whispered.

William Adama closed his eyes, trying to suppress the longing for her. "I will see what I can do."

"Good," Laura said in a soft, moany voice. "And if you aren't on Colonial One in 15 minutes sharp, I will call you again and make you endure phone sex with me while you have to be Admiral."

He smiled and cleared his throat. He knew that she would go for it.

"I hope that I didn't miss the most valuable moments of the meeting, Madame President."

"You were extremely close to losing this, Bill." She giggled again, playfully. "Standing me up for some frakking nuggets who sent their minds to R&R." She shook her head.

"It won't happen again, Madame President," Bill grunted.

"Damn right, it won't," she teased him. "And now? Do you intend to keep me waiting here for you, all naked & ready to jump?"

Bill tried to mask his impatience and growled, "It's nice to be assured that my expertise is still welcomed."

"Needed, Bill, needed."

When Bill hung up on her, Saul shook his head. _Frakkin' boot licker_, he thought, muttering, "I guess, I have the bridge, Sir?"

The Admiral nodded, rushing off with half of his dignity.

On Colonial One, Laura Roslin sat behind her desk, going through some files. She checked her watch and put her glasses on one of the files. She looked at the ashtray where she had just recently put out her joint, and grinned. _Men are so easy_, she thought, rubbing her neck. She stood up, and crept to her cabin, pulling her drawers open to reveal a lacy red nightgown. She put it on her bed, stepped out of her clothes and rested her tired bones amongst her sheets.

She smiled when she heard the eagerness in his footsteps, and her smile broadened when he didn't even bother to lecture her on bribing him. There were more pressing matters at hand now.

She had been right.

As usual.

**The End**


End file.
